The Lightning's Claim

by K. M. Fahy

  That’s why Catarva let Amadora go last night. Kitieri smirked.

  “I don’t like this.” Catarva’s soft voice beside her grabbed Kitieri’s attention, wiping the smirk from her face.

  “What?” she whispered.

  “Something’s wrong. Tiernan isn’t… here.”

  “What? How do you know that?”

  “I should be able to feel him, sense him, from here and I can’t. It’s like—”

  A strangled shriek from within the Baliant’s chambers reached their ears, and Kitieri rushed after Catarva into the spacious dining room, where a middle-aged woman with wild brown curls stood planted in the next doorway.

  “What are they doing here?” she hissed vehemently, fingers latched to either side of the doorframe like long claws. “How dare you, Beso! No one enters here!”

  “Amilla, they’re invoking the law,” Beso said.

  “I don’t care! No one goes in here.”

  Catarva clasped her hands politely in front of her as she turned to Beso. “Need I repeat myself?”

  Beso’s mouth opened and closed like an ugly fish that had flopped out of the water, lying on the bank struggling for air, and Kitieri studied Amilla more closely. What kind of power did this caretaker have to make Beso consider crossing Catarva again?

  While the Advisor floundered, Amilla fixed Catarva with a cutting glare.

  “The Baliant is not well,” she said with a threatening edge. “You will have to return at a later date.”

  Catarva pushed past Beso, dwarfing him with her presence.

  “I have officially submitted request after request to speak with Baliant Tiernan, and all have been denied. I have my records and those of your Church to prove it. This man has been ‘unavailable’ for ten years. This is the later date.”

  “You can’t just—”

  “I can, and I will. Move aside.”

  Panic mounted in Amilla’s eyes as Catarva approached, and she bared her teeth like a cornered animal. The woman’s behavior sent chills down Kitieri’s spine, and apprehension rose in her throat. She was clearly unbalanced, but insane enough to attack a Baliant…?

  “Catarva,” she warned, starting forward, and Amilla’s crazed eyes snapped to her.

  “You,” she snarled. “I know who you are. The sniveling little bitch who broke my Stil’s nose. He’ll be delighted to see you’ve returned.”

  Kitieri’s narrowed eyes widened as she understood Amilla’s words. My Stil. The Baliant’s sole caretaker. A wave of nausea accompanied the dark realization, and Kitieri sucked in a breath.

  “All right, that’s it,” she said, summoning white sparks to her fingertips. “This is over. Get the fuck out of the way.”

  Amilla glanced at the popping sparks with a hiss-like laugh. “You want to kill me?”

  “I want you to step aside so I don’t have to.”

  Something flashed in the woman’s eyes, and with a wild screech she rushed at Kitieri, clawed hands aiming for her throat. As Kitieri braced for the physical impact, a flash of blue darted to her side. Lara whipped around behind Amilla, throwing her arm across her throat in a stranglehold before slamming her to the ground.

  “Haldin, the door,” Catarva barked, and Haldin’s boot slammed into the thick wood just over the handle. Amilla unleashed a bloodcurdling scream, writhing on the floor beneath Lara’s knee, as Haldin’s third kick splintered the wood and threw open the door.

  Stagnant air wafted from the room, hitting Kitieri like a wall. Haldin motioned back for them to follow, pointing to the great curtained bed against the far wall. Dim lamps burned on either side, casting an eerie light.

  Kitieri crossed slowly, gagging on the thick air.

  “Baliant Tiernan?” Catarva called. “We have come to speak with you.”

  Silence hung in the room like a heavy blanket, threatening to smother any who walked here. Coming to the foot of the bed, Kitieri exchanged a nod with Catarva before they split to each side, pulling back the gold and crimson curtains.

  Kitieri fell back with a garbled shout, letting the curtain fall closed. Clutching her stomach, she emptied its contents into a nearby decorative vase, retching until there was nothing left. Her hands shook on the edges of the vase, and she squeezed her eyes closed in an attempt to eradicate what she’d seen.

  “Fucking hells,” came Bat’s low voice behind her.

  “What?” Beso bellowed. “What is it?”

  He ripped the curtain back, uttering a pathetic cry. Kitieri spat into the vase, ridding her mouth of its foul taste, and straightened.

  Lying in the bed was a shriveled, blackened corpse, fingers curled into gnarled knots over its chest. Catarva reappeared from the other side, her expression a mix of horror and outrage.

  “This,” she said to Beso, pointing, “is an embalmed body, at least ten years dead.”

  Beso’s stubby fingers trembled as he held his hands up in defense. “I… I didn’t—”

  “Enough of the lies!” Catarva boomed, and Beso leapt back like she’d swung a sword at him. “Your Baliant has been dead for years, and you have kept it a secret. Every single action, every single policy, every single person killed in the name of Histan over the past ten years is invalid. Your Church and its vicious ways are over.”

  Beso backed away, eyes darting about the room for some kind of escape, when a chilling voice stole Kitieri’s breath.

  “How kind of you to pay our dear Baliant a visit.”

  Kitieri’s blood turned to ice as Stil’s tall, lean form darkened the door.

  “Stil,” Beso stuttered, “I-I didn’t know—”

  “Shut up,” Stil snapped at him. “Go ring the bells. We’ve an important announcement to make to the Square.”

  As Beso fled the room, Kitieri spotted the magenta cloak and caught a glimpse of Amadora’s silver hair behind Stil. Past her, Amilla’s shrill, crazed laugh filled the room, and flashes of red, gray, and blue uniforms caught her eye .

  Shit. Her heart pounded.

  “Stil.” Hatred dripped from Catarva’s lips as she said his name. “You hid Tiernan’s death to take illegal control of this Church.”

  Stil smirked. “I had to, didn’t I? You know Chief Advisors are ineligible for Baliant, and Tiernan was a bumbling idiot.”

  “You know what this means,” Catarva spat. “You have no Baliant, and your Church is in collapse. Your power is gone.”

  The venomous grin that spread further across Stil’s long features struck terror into Kitieri’s heart, and she clenched her fists to stop their shaking.

  “Oh, I don’t think so,” he said. “I am the power of this Church. They have followed no one but me for the past decade, and not a single Advisor, officer, or common pig will dare cross me.”

  He advanced into the room, eyes locked on Catarva.

  “You fail because you’re weak, Catarva. Your feeble attempts at handouts and saving people have backfired, and coming here will be the end of your reign. It’s your word against mine now, and I witnessed something very different in this room today. Your Board will back my version of events, and confirm that you came here to murder Baliant Tiernan because you knew there was no chance at victory over our superior military force.”

  Kitieri’s heart was in her throat, listening to Stil’s words with abject horror, and she glanced to Catarva. Was that a smile?

  “It appears you’ve not been updated on current events,” she said softly, gaze flitting to Amadora’s form as she made to slink away through the dining room. Stil’s confidence flickered as he spun on the woman, stomping on the trail of her cloak.

  “What is she talking about?” he demanded. Amadora froze, shoulders hunched. Stil’s chest inflated with rage as he turned fully to her. “You LOST THE BOARD?”

  His voice thundered through the room, rattling the narrow windows. Amadora cowered before him, trembling hands coming up over her head.

  “They betrayed me—”

  “You lied to me.”

 
Quivering violently, Amadora turned slowly to face him. “I thought—”

  “Silence.” Stil’s cutting tone severed Amadora’s excuse, and he lifted a fiery hand. “You are beyond useless.”

  Amadora’s screams filled the room as she went up in a giant burst of flames. She ran from the chambers, flailing like a tattered rag doll and trailing black smoke behind her as Stil whirled back to face Catarva.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said over Amadora’s echoing screams. “They will still take my word over yours, because I’m the one they fear. You’re finished—both of you.”

  He turned a sneer on Kitieri, his hand engulfed in flames once more. Kitieri fought her paralysis, calling her lightning to her hands, but it balked as she tried to send it to Stil.

  His Gadget. FUCK.

  Stil brought his hand down, and an intense blast of heat washed over Kitieri from one side. She ducked away, shielding her head and face as the entire bed caught fire. Angry flames traveled up the thick curtains to lick the ceiling, traveling at an alarming rate to the walls around them.

  “Amilla, get the money and meet me in the Square,” Stil snapped.

  “Where are you going?” came the woman’s shrill voice.

  “The cintra.”

  The sound of the Church’s bells shook the floor beneath Kitieri’s feet, and she choked and coughed as the room filled with dark smoke. Peering through the haze, she found Stil gone from the doorway.

  “Get out!” Haldin shouted, and Kitieri followed Catarva’s white robes out of the room. Lara awaited her with a ready stance, the blood streaming from her temple turning the blue collar of her uniform a grotesque purple.

  “Are you all right?” Kitieri leaned in close as the haze between them grew thicker.

  “Fine, Baliant. Let’s get out!”

  Smoke followed them through the meeting room and out into the hallway, where Haldin and Catarva ran for the stairs. Kitieri stopped cold, spinning around as Bat nearly smashed into her. She caught the woman’s arms, pulling Bat’s face in close to hers.

  “Taff and Jera,” she said over the crackling flames. “Where are they?”

  “They’re probably long gone by now, safe with the officers,” Bat replied. “Come on, we need to—”

  “I’m not leaving them!”

  Bat paused, then gave a curt nod. “I’ll show you where they went.”

  They rushed down the stairs after Catarva, now long out of sight with her gray officers, and Bat hooked a left turn on one of the wide landings that branched into a new labyrinth of hallways. Even down several floors, the fire and smoke followed them, eating through the ceiling and walls like a ravenous monster, and Bat cursed under her breath.

  “This fire is unnatural,” she said. “Stil is accelerating it. He’s determined to bring this whole thing to the ground.”

  Kitieri’s heart raced as they sprinted through the nearly deserted network of hallways. Why weren’t people running?

  “Where is everybody?” she panted.

  “The bells.” Bat jerked her head up to the ever-present sound of their deep chiming. “They’re congregating in the Square. Almost there!”

  As Bat turned another corner, Kitieri spotted a huddle of dark cloaks at the far end cornered by a fallen, burning beam, some cradling swaddled, crying bundles. At their front, a shock of straight pale hair sent Kitieri’s heart into her throat.

  “Jera!” she cried, closing in on the group.

  The girl did not look up, focused intently on the beam with her hands, and Kitieri realized she was attempting to summon enough water to put out the wide beam.

  “Jera!” she screamed louder, and the girl snapped her head up. Beads of sweat dripped from her face, damp hair clinging to her skin as she broke her focus.

  “Kitieri!” Her wide smile showed her missing tooth. “You’re here!”

  Another beam collapsed behind them, and a wave of searing heat filled the hallway as one of the swaddled infants screamed.

  “All right!” Bat shouted. “Hold your breath, everyone!”

  As soon as Kitieri could fill her lungs, fighting not to choke on the building smoke, Bat waved a hand. Kitieri frowned at her as she stood, eyes closed, with one hand clenched in a fist.

  What in the hells is she…

  In the next instant, the flames around them sputtered and faded, shrinking back into the walls and disappearing from the beam.

  Air. Kitieri’s eyes grew wide. Fire can’t breathe without air.

  Bat beckoned the children forward, directing them under the high end of the beam in silence. Kitieri grabbed Jera’s hand as she crawled under, and they rushed back down the hallway to the stairs. Bat let out a loud rush of air, and the fire roared back to life behind them as they ran for the ground floor.

  “Jera, where’s Taff?” Kitieri asked.

  “He went ahead,” Jera replied, panting as she clung to Kitieri’s hand. “He went first so there weren’t that many of us together.”

  “So he’s outside?”

  “I think so. I was supposed to wait a while, and then the fire started… but we got baby Vina! Ani has her!”

  Jera twisted even as Kitieri pulled her forward down the stairs, pointing at one of the crying babies in the arms of a brown cloak behind them.

  “That’s amazing, Jera! You did incredible,” Kitieri said, squeezing her hand. “Come on, let’s hurry.”

  The fire had not yet reached the Sanctuary as they sprinted down the red runner, bursting out into the afternoon sunlight. Kitieri pulled up short at the top of the wide stairs, jaw dropping at the massive crowd milling in the Square. Red uniforms punctuated the sea of dark clothing as they pressed into the open space, avoiding only the central pillar and its dais, where Catarva stood surrounded by her guard. Water elements, officer and commoner alike, lined up before the Church in an attempt to douse the raging flames that licked the stone façade through shattered windows.

  “Good people! Members of the Church of Histan!”

  Kitieri turned, searching for the source of the shout, and looked directly above her at the bottom of the balcony protruding over the Church’s doors.

  “I carry heavy news!” Beso’s voice continued.

  “Come on, kids.” Bat moved forward, ushering the brown cloaks to the stairs, and Kitieri looked down at Jera’s hand still entwined in her own.

  “Go with Bat,” she whispered, looking up to catch the woman’s eye. “She promises to keep you safe this time.”

  Bat twitched an eyebrow with an easy grin, extending a hand to Jera.

  “I promise promise,” she said.

  With another nod from Kitieri, Jera trotted after Bat and the other brown cloaks, winding through the clamoring crowd like unseen ghosts. Kitieri ran down the stairs, shouldering forcefully through the crowd until she reached the stone steps of the dais.

  “Our Baliant has been murdered—” Beso cried.

  “Where have you been?” Catarva hissed as Kitieri broke through the crowd to step up beside her.

  “Saving my sister.” Kitieri turned to survey the crowd. But where is Taff?

  “—by these two!”

  Kitieri looked up at the balcony, where Beso pointed a shaking finger at them as a roar erupted from the gathered crowd. Gray and blue officers formed a circle around the dais, weapons at the ready as the people turned toward them. As Beso opened his mouth to shout again, Kitieri felt a powerful surge of energy pull on her lightning. A warning…?

  “These so-called Baliants have committed an act of war against our Church, and—”

  A powerful bolt of blue lightning tore through the sky, and Kitieri gasped as her element zipped through her.

  Her relief at holding it back turned to horror as little pieces pelted her head and neck. She held out her hand, catching the black, gravelly bits that fell from the sky, and looked up to see the balcony empty. Gagging, she dropped the charred pieces to the ground.

  “The warnings,” she rasped, hoarse. “There was
barely any warn—”

  “I was wrong.”

  Kitieri snapped around to Catarva, whose dark skin shone with sweat. Another Strike cracked on the far edge of the Square, inciting a wave of panic through the crowd.

  “I was wrong,” Catarva said again, voice breaking as screams erupted. “The Church of Enahris was never the weak one. This was the broken Church. This one, with all its power…”

  Blue lightning cracked with minimal warning right beside Kitieri, charring a young woman mid-scream.

  “What is happening?” Kitieri screamed over the mayhem.

  “The two years we thought we had are up.” Catarva’s whisper cut through the chaos. “The balance is gone. The Church of Histan has fallen.”

  Chapter 22

  Catarva’s words ringing in her ears, Kitieri looked out over the panicking crowd with a deep, raw horror growing in her gut. Hundreds of people pushing against one another in a futile attempt to flee, her siblings somewhere among them, all ripe for the reaping as black smoke billowed up from the Church to block out the afternoon sun.

  The two years are up…

  Another Strike reared its head, shooting a hard, fast warning through Kitieri’s body. Her lightning screeched, raking down her arms in an attempt to burst free, and Kitieri squeezed her eyes closed.

  No. You can’t lose control. Not now.

  She clenched her fists, stilling her element even as another warning zap threatened to wrench it free. No emotion, no emotion…

  After three quick warnings, the Blue Killer roared down for her. She raised her hand as the energy tore through the sky, repelling it before it could touch her. Catarva cried out beside her, doubling over with a staggering step.

  “Shit!” Kitieri’s hand flew to her mouth. “Catarva, I’m sorry, I—”

  “No!” Catarva waved her hand. “Do it. It’s the only way now.”

  “What does that mean?” Kitieri asked. “What happens now?”

  The Baliant shook her head, amber eyes wide as she lifted them to the flames rising from the Church roof, charring the light stone where they licked from the windows. Another set of warnings came, and the repelled Strike sent Catarva to her knees this time.